by Paul Roberts

Created on: September 21, 2009   Last Updated: September 22, 2009

The laughter of my faded youth

is but mumble in the dark.

Others recall the fun and games,

I recall the scars.

Scars that run deep beneath the skin,

unseen by prying eyes,

scars that will never heal with questions still...why?

Belts, cords and bitter words,

fists and sometimes boots,

all have added to the list scars that start as bruise.

Lies to cover up the shame and blanking out the truth,

scars that will still remain to painful to talk through.

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